


Just a Little Touch

by spicedrobot



Series: Moth AU [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dirty Talk, Fae & Fairies, Frottage, Kidnapping, M/M, Macro/Micro, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Voyeurism, dragonfly genji, moth au, moth zenyatta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 21:05:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14387100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicedrobot/pseuds/spicedrobot
Summary: Zenyatta and Genji are fae, and Jesse can't resist sampling the wares.





	Just a Little Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the [moth AU](https://robotfvckers.tumblr.com/tagged/moth%20au) and asks on my tumblr. 
> 
> Here's what [Zenyatta](https://robotfvckers.tumblr.com/post/173105486968/robotfetish-robotfvckers-this-fucking-au-has) and [Genji](https://robotfvckers.tumblr.com/post/173041991878/another-soft-boy-incoming-goggle-look-taken-from) look like!
> 
> I also have a [moth nsfw](https://robotfvckers.tumblr.com/tagged/moth%20au%20nsfw) tag if you want more spicy HCs.

“Hands off, Jesse.” **  
**

The voice, deep and rumbling, eases him awake. His fur ruffles as he shifts, but when he settles again, his fur doesn’t.

Zenyatta freezes.

“I ain’t gonna hurt him.”

He feels slow, like he’s trapped in muck, his mind soft like a sip of mead too many. Something huge and warm drags down his chest, carding through his fur, a repetitive, even motion that has him humming.

Zenyatta follows the line of shifting mass, up large, calloused knuckles and a gargantuan arm, tawny and covered in hair, to a huge, burly face.

“A human.” Zenyatta exhales.

“See? He likes it.”

He waits for the cold chill of fear to break through the surface of the haze, but as the moments pass beneath soft, gentle touches, it doesn’t come. How easily he could be injured or crushed, Zenyatta thinks numbly, but there’s no malice in the human’s aura, nor in the one seated a few feet away, looking disinterested.

Zenyatta’s in a tank, large enough for the human to maneuver without any issue, the gentle repulsion of silver a whisper along the top of the glass.

The forest. A strange, overly sweet smell, unnatural and cloying. Genji.

Genji.

Zenyatta startles, two sets of hands latching onto the large finger that slows but never stops touching him.

“What’s wrong, lil fella?”

“Where is Genji?” Zenyatta says, but the human only tilts his head, brows dipping low.

Zenyatta whips around, the world blurring. His fingers sink into the human’s hand, and he finally stills, lets the moth shift until he sees it: a flash of vibrant, familiar green. He gasps, tries to stand, but that’s where his power ends.

“Hush, now.” The human resumes the gentle touch, a languid stroke from throat to belly that barely skirts the sensitive peaks of his nipples. “Your friend hasn’t woken up yet, but he’s ok.”

Though Zenyatta hears the sincerity in his words, he squirms to get a good look at his other. Genji lays curled in an adjacent tank, half on his stomach in his normal, undignified sprawl, chest rising and falling with a gentle snore. His wings, flecked with gold and webbed translucent green, are bound with broad cord. Only then does Zenyatta realize the gentle pressure of the same soft material securing his own span, tucked safe and comfortable beneath his back.

The slowly ebbing panic steals his energy, worked back into warmth by the human’s hand. He can do nothing under his gaze, dark and soft like forest loam. The thought of escape dims with Genji asleep and the lack of an immediate threat, though as the human drags higher, beneath a pointed ear, grazing the delicate wisps of his antennae, another issue surfaces.

As undeniable as the seasons, the beginnings of his heat take root in his body. In another cycle of the sun, he would be helpless and heat-trapped, and the calloused drag of the human’s hand does nothing to slow the process.

He chirps when the digit catches against the swell of his lips, down again into the fur covering most of his chest.

“Tellin’ ya boss, softer ‘n silk.” The human coos, circling his chest, catching the hidden peaks.

“Did I ask for a play by play?”

Zenyatta grasps his finger again, flushing hard when the human repeats the motion. Carefully the human parts Zenyatta’s fur with forefinger and thumb, staring open-mouthed at the tiny plumpness of a revealed nub.

“These damn things got nipples?” The human presses along the soft mound, a circular grind that makes Zenyatta clench his thighs together and toss his head back.

“They’re not really insects, Jesse. They’re fae.”

“No wonder they’re so popular.” He murmurs.

Zenyatta covers his face with one hand, the others holding on for dear life as the human circles and teases his nipple, perhaps waiting for it to peak out of its stubborn flesh. Then he squeezes, and Zenyatta chirps and struggles, chest flooded with sensation, the tip of his nipple exposed and chilled by the air.

“There we go…” The human says, a fine tremble disturbing his fluff as he releases the tightened flesh, only to expose his other nipple moments after.

The human looms closer, his breath ruffling him, warm like dried grass and burning leaves. Zenyatta worries his lip, the undeniable unfurling of heat in his lower body embarrassing and frightening. He hopes stupidly that the human will not notice how his cock, dusky and gently tapered, emerges from its hidden slit at the apex of his thighs, treacherously swelling past the protective barrier of fur.

“Liking it more than you let on, lil one?” The man chuckles.

His finger drags down Zenyatta’s trembling middle, each hair disturbed felt singularly, the calloused catch of his skin surging to Zenyatta’s cock.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take responsibility.”

“If you get him dirty you’ll be the one explaining to the buyer why the product’s covered in its own cum.”

“Yeah, yeah. Can’t just leave him like this, can I?” Jesse grumbles, focus returning to the tiny moth quaking in his grip. His tongue catches along his lower lip, the tip lingering outside of his mouth as he grasps the base of Zenyatta’s cock between his fingers.

Zenyatta cries out, clasping his own mouth to quiet himself, gaze shooting to Genji. He squirms, tries to stay so still while the human lifts his cock and nestles his other hand, smooth and metallic, between it and his fluttering stomach.

“Jus’ like this, then.” The human says, the pad of one finger stroking along his cock, base to tip, tip to base. It’s rougher than another’s body, the metal quickly warming beneath his aching cock, the motion more teasing than satisfying.

Zenyatta fights the sensation, but it’s a growing throb he cannot be shut out. His hips lift into the touch, cock sliming the patches of skin it catches against, the drag becoming liquid smooth and dizzying.

“There you go…feels good?” The human hums, nostrils flaring. “You smell so sweet.”

His heart pounds, whole body feeling too tight and useless, cock twitching with every drag and press, jumping for more stimulation, anything, everything—

“Your friend thinks so too.”

Zenyatta snaps his eyes open.

Genji stares, palms against the glass, pupils ringed in viridian. His mouth moves, words Zenyatta can’t hear, blood pounding between his ears, between his legs, against the human’s hand that never stops sliding slick and hot against him. He doesn’t even have the chance to look away, forearms sealing around the finger slipping over every inch of his cock, quickening at the leaking tip, lingering, flicking and—Zenyatta’s whole body quakes, shivering and twitching through the first hot gushes of orgasm, splattering against the metal hand.

“Damn.” The word washes over Zenyatta, breathless and deep, though he can barely process it, not with aftershocks rattling through his body.

He collapses, hands falling to the soft floor of the tank as he gasps, waiting for the gentle haze of pleasure to ease from his mind. The human removes his hand, Zenyatta’s softening cock slapping against the silky thatch along his belly, thighs shaking as the ghost of sensation still clings to him.

Dazed, Zenyatta watches the human lift his hand to his face. The human sniffs before his tongue flicks against his open palm.

Zenyatta shivers.

“Just like honeysuckle.”

“You’re absolutely disgusting.” The other human says with a growl. “Leave him be now. Dropship’s landing in five.”

Knowing he cannot put it off forever, needing him, Zenyatta looks to Genji, wrapping his arms around himself. A surprising flush colors Genji’s cheeks, and worry as loud as words shines in his eyes.

“Don’t fret. Where you two are going, you’ll be a matched set.”

It’s those words that Zenyatta clings to as he shakily settles against the wall closest to Genji, the quiet thrum of his heat abated for the moment, a whisper that will grow to a roar as night passes into day.

He aligns his hands with Genji’s against the glass, and his other smiles, tight but resolute.

They would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> continue? :3c


End file.
